Rabbi's Column - December 2025

Dear Friends,

If you look for the word “Chanukah” in the TaNaKh (Bible), you will be looking for a very long time! That’s because the historical events of Chanukah occurred after the TaNaKh was completed. Everything we know about the holiday therefore comes from post-biblical sources: the apocryphal books of Maccabees and the ancient Jewish-Roman historian Josephus are among the earliest. These sources describe the political repressions of a foreign Hellenistic regime and the internal political tensions of a Jewish community divided on how to —or even if to — fight back.

Generations after the Maccabees declared victory, the emerging rabbinic class had to make sense of this minor holiday it had inherited. The Talmud retells the military story with a subtly different framing:
On the twenty-fifth of Kislev, the days of Hanukkah are eight. One may not eulogize or fast. Why? When the Greeks entered the Sanctuary they defiled all the oils there. And when the [Maccabees] overcame them and emerged victorious over them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil that was placed with the seal of the High Priest, undisturbed by the Greeks. And there was sufficient oil there to light the menorah for only one day. A miracle occurred and they lit the menorah from it for eight days. The next year the Sages instituted those days and made them holidays with recitation of Hallel and special thanksgiving in prayer and blessings. (Tractate Shabbat 21b)

According to the Talmud, this miracle explains why we light candles for eight nights.

The Talmud describes another principle:
It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, so that all can see it. If one lives upstairs, one places it at the window adjacent to the public domain.

One of the most beautiful times to be in Jerusalem’s old city is during the last few nights of Chanukah, when rows upon rows of oil lamps glimmer outside each home. The light warms the ancient limestone in the most beautiful way. This precept is called pirsum ha’nes — publicizing the miracle. Unlike most other Jewish holidays, which take place in the synagogue or around the family table, Chanukah is supposed to be visible to the outside world. The miracle is meant to be shared.

What is it like to share Judaism in our day? I think most of us would say, it’s complicated! Many of our founding families have described to me that, in the 1970s, the goal was quite the opposite of publicity.

That was reflected in the architecture of the original building: cloistered, inward-focused.

Our beautifully renovated building sends a different message. The expansive glass and inviting design speak to me of Jewish pride. More importantly, this is reflected by the culture of hospitality we strive to cultivate. I simply love this about our congregation, and I hope you do too. In a time of rising bigotry and political strife, I am doubly grateful that these are our values.

To that effect, we will be placing a Chanukah menorah outside of our building this year. Please save the date for Wednesday, December 17th, when we will join together with the broader Jewish community to light the menorah. Our usual bring-your-own menorah and brisket cookoff will take place on Friday, December 19th.

Each Chanukah, We sing the ancient words, " הַ נֵּר וֹת הַ לָּל וּ, אֲ נַ חְ נ וּ מַ דְ לִ י קִ ין עַל הַ נִּ סִּ ים וְ עַל הַ נִּ פְ לָא וֹת וְ עַל הַ תְּ שׁ וּע וֹת וְ עַל הַ מִּ לְ חָ מ וֹת "(HaNeirot HaLalu, anachnu madlikin al haNisim v'al haNiflaot v'al haT'shu'ot v'al haMilchamot). We light these lights for the miracles, for the wonders, for the salvations, and for the struggles—past and present. The miracle is not just that the oil lasted, but that the Jewish spirit persevered. Every flame we kindle is an act of courage.

Even the smallest light has the power to define the entire space around it. As you share your light, remember that you are not just illuminating your own home; you are taking part in a collective, ancient endeavor to push back the shadows and affirm hope. We stand together, multiplying the light until the darkest night shines out like the dawn.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

President's Column - December 2025

The rabbis teach that when we light the menorah, we are not only recalling the miracle of oil that lasted eight days, but also affirming that our role is to bring light into the world. Each flame represents hope, resilience, and dedication. Chanukah reminds us that even in times of challenge, a single spark can ignite great change.

When I was a kid at Ezra Academy, one of my favorite traditions was our annual Chanukah program. The students put on skits, sang songs, performed dances, and shared stories, all centered on the holiday. The entire community came together, dressed up for the occasion, and filled the room with joy. And of course, no Chanukah program was complete without latkes hot off the griddle, sufganiyot dusted with sugar, and plenty of gelt for dreidel games.Those nights taught me that Chanukah is not only about miracles, it’s about community, celebration, and the light we create together.

This year, Temple Beth Tikvah will shine brighter than ever. On Wednesday, December 17th, we will kindle our first large outdoor menorah in a special ceremony. This new tradition will be a beacon of Jewish pride and resilience, visible to all who pass by, and a powerful reminder that our light endures.

Then, on Friday, December 19th, we gather for one of TBT’s most beloved traditions: our annual all-congregation Chanukah celebration, menorah lighting, and brisket cook-off dinner. It is an evening filled with laughter, delicious food, light, and the joy of celebrating together as one family.

As we enjoy these moments of light and warmth, I invite you to also join in sustaining our future. Our Secure the Future capital campaign continues to move forward, with the goal of retiring the remaining debt from our renovation. Just as each candle strengthens the glow of the menorah, each contribution strengthens the foundation of our community.

Let us come together this Chanukah season, at the menorah lighting, at the brisket cook-off, and in support of our campaign, to ensure that Temple Beth Tikvah remains a place of light, learning, and love for generations to come.

Chag Urim Sameach,

Josh Broder
President, Temple Beth Tikvah

Temple Educator's Column - December 2025

TBT has been blessed with amazing teachers- past and present- who serve our Religious School.

We are fortunate that the Jewish community at Yale has been a great source of many of our teachers. We currently have five Yale undergraduates teaching at TBT: Aviv Pilipski, Hannah Saraf, Keira Gerstley, Dani Klein and Anya Geist. They teach Kitot Bet – Vav (2nd – 6th) in the order listed. It is a joy to watch them work with our kids, and the kids love them!

From the broader community, we have Ed Soufer, who teaches music and leads tefilah for our students, while Miriam Heyman teaches Gan (kindergarten). Ed lives in Madison, and Miriam makes her way from the Naugatuck Valley each Sunday.

Members Shelley Capozzi and Rachel Kilian, teach Kitot Zayin (7th) and Alef (1st), respectively. I realize that many of our congregational members served our school long before I became part of this amazing community. Our members often find ways to share their gifts with us – such as working in leadership, worshipping with us, or serving on committees.

TBT members often connect me to candidates who join our faculty. Our mission statement says: “Temple Beth Tikvah is a vibrant, inclusive Reform Jewish community, guided by Torah and interconnected through our traditions and values of tikkun hanefesh (enriching our lives) and tikkun olam (improving the world).”

Our teachers fulfill most of the mission. However, only the teachers who are TBT members can fully demonstrate our mission. They live the values of TBT, and they model them to our children inside TBT and outside in the community.

If I have two candidates equally capable, and only one is a member of our congregation, I will hire the member. I do so because a member modeling our values is something that rarely can be found outside of TBT. Of course, not being a member is a curable condition. Our SALTY advisor, Devon Barker, joined TBT around the same time he began his work with us!

Please consider teaching Religious School at TBT, perhaps starting as a substitute. No teaching experience? Not to worry. The best teacher I ever had was a treasury agent. The criteria for teaching our children is simple:
You love being Jewish and are passionate about the history and future of the Jewish people.
You enjoy engaging with children.
Good listening skills.

I can help you with technique and Jewish knowledge.
Let’s talk.
Ira J. Wise, DJRE Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - November 2025

Dear Friends,

When I was in college there was a gigantic rock in the center of campus. Every 20th-century war, social upheaval, and local drama probably got painted on it at some point. It had been painted and repainted so many times that it was probably double its original size.

Was there something like this at your alma mater? Tufts University has an old cannon that serves the same purpose. One of our college students recently snapped a photo of it and her mom sent it to me. The Tufts cannon was painted dark blue, with huge white letters: “WELCOME HOME! AM YISRAEL CHAI.”

When I received that photo, I replied that I lacked adequate words to describe how it made me feel. Many of us have had similar emotional responses in recent weeks.

The elation of seeing every living hostage return home is a joy that defies description. It feels as though part of the Jewish soul has been restored. And yet there are so many other feelings—conflicted ones. Psychologists talk about “complex grief.” This moment makes me think there should also be something called “complex joy.” For even as we rejoice, we also grieve: for families who don’t get a reunion, who are still waiting, and for the unanswerable questions: can this really be the end of war? What will come next? How will Israel reckon with the suffering and destruction? How will we?

Then, just as the worry builds, I see something beautiful—those tearful reunions—and my heart explodes with gratitude. A moment later, my brain starts talking to my heart, wondering what healing will look like for those who have survived such horror. Everything has changed for them and their loved ones. A long road lies ahead. And yet—they are home. There is such joy.

In Judaism, joy is a religious precept. The Psalms say: עִ בְ ד וּ אֶת־ה׳ בְּ שִׂ מְ חָ ה, בֹּא וּ לְ פָ נָיו בִּ רְ נָ נָה — serve God with joy, come before God with happy song. There’s even a term for it: שִׂ מְ חָ ה שֶׁ ל מִ צְ וָה — the joy of performing a commandment. Perhaps because of the many dark chapters of our history, joy and humor have always helped us cope.

Hasidic Judaism made joy central. מִ צְ וָה גְּד וֹ לָה לִ הְ י וֹת בְּ שִׂ מְ חָ ה תָּ מִ יד — it is a great commandment to be joyful, always. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, the great-grandson of the first great Hasidic teacher called the Ba’al Shem Tov, taught about joy through the metaphor of dance:

Imagine you are in a room full of dancers, but standing on the sidelines because your mood is too dark to let you enter the circle. Finally, someone grabs you by the hand, pulling you in. As you begin to move, you notice your former sadness still standing back there, disapproving. The real task, says Rabbi Nachman, is to make that sadness itself dance, to transform it into joy. (Rabbi Art Green: Judaism’s 10 Best Ideas)

Nachman knew profound torment. He suffered the deaths of most of his children as well as his wife, and likely struggled with depression throughout his life. His teachings on joy are powerful because they are personal. Don’t ignore your sadness, he taught. Chase after it and transform it.

This teaching called to mind a speech that Rachel Goldberg-Polin gave last month. Rachel, mother of slain hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin, captured the emotional impossibility of the moment:
”We are told there is a season for everything, but now we are being asked to digest all of them at once—winter, spring, summer, fall. A time to weep and a time to laugh, and we have to do both right now. A time to sob, and a time to dance, and we have to do both right now.“

As Rachel describes, the transition from war to whatever comes next is complex, because joy itself is complex. Despite the many questions that remain, we need to let our hearts hope. As the Psalmist writes: “You turn my mourning into dancing; You remove my mourning garments and gird me with joy.”

May th s be our fervent prayer.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

President's Column - November 2025

As the autumn leaves fall and the days grow shorter, November invites us to reflect, not just on gratitude, but on legacy. In Jewish tradition, legacy isn’t measured solely in material terms. It’s found in the values we uphold, the stories we tell, and the communities we nurture. Pirkei Avot teaches, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” That resonates deeply as we continue shaping the future of TBT.

This month, I’m especially grateful for the opportunity to deepen our learning and connection through our Scholar-in-Residence program, taking place November 7–9. We’re honored to welcome Yardena Schwartz, an award-winning journalist and documentary producer whose work explores the intersection of Jewish identity, politics, and culture. Her insights promise to challenge, inspire, and enrich our understanding of the world and our place in it. I encourage everyone to attend and engage—this is a rare and meaningful opportunity for our congregation.

Legacy also lives in the work we’re doing to secure TBT’s future. From the capital campaign led by David Sack, to the task force headed by Dr. Alan Friedman, we’re not just maintaining, we’re reimagining. These efforts are about more than finances; they’re about ensuring that TBT remains a spiritual home for generations to come.

And here’s where each of us plays a role. Whether through a contribution to the capital campaign to help retire our debt, or a legacy gift in your estate planning, your support becomes part of TBT’s enduring story. It’s a way to say: I was here. I believed in this community. I helped it thrive. I want to ensure its existence forever.

If you’re ready to be part of that legacy, I encourage you to reach out to David Sack at 917-744- 3503 or dsack1234@aol.com, or to Sabrina Maurer, our Director of Development and Financial Planning, at 215-620-8427 or sabrinalmaurer@gmail.com. They’ll be happy to talk with you about how your gift, large or small, can make a lasting impact.

I also want to extend a heartfelt welcome to the many new members who have joined TBT over the past few months. Your presence brings fresh energy and new perspectives to our community, and we’re so glad you’re here. To our longtime members: I encourage you to reach out, connect, and help us continue growing. If you know someone looking for a spiritual home, invite them to experience what makes TBT so special. Every new member strengthens our future.

As we approach Thanksgiving, I invite you to reflect not only on what you’re grateful for, but on what you’re building. What part of your story will live on in this community? How can we, together, ensure that TBT continues to be a place of warmth, meaning, and belonging?

Wishing you a season filled with learning, connection, and purpose.

Warmly,
Josh Broder
President of TBT ‘s Board of Directors

Temple Educator's Column - November 2025

Hakarat Hatov means Gratitude (or Thanksgiving if you prefer!)

Thanksgiving is a time for…check the boxes that fit your reality:
0 Family gathering?
0 Specific food choices?
0 Lions and/or Cowboys football?
0 Debating the historical origins of the holiday?
0 Booking flights and hotels?
0 Counting the blessings in your life?

As Jews, many of us tend not to use the “count your blessings” phrase too often. It sounds to some like language other people use. I think that may be a mistake for us.

During the High Holy Day season, we often talk about doing Cheshbon Hanefesh – an accounting of the soul. The idea is to review the past year and note the times we have hurt someone or fallen short from what we (and God) expect from our own behavior. Then we are supposed to go to those people and to God and atone – make amends – and try to restore our relationships.

Thanksgiving suggests a similar, yet slightly different, exercise. The Hebrew for gratitude is Hakarat Hatov. The literal translation of the two words is “recognizing the good.”

Cheshbon Hanefesh focuses on how we missed the mark. Hakarat Hatov demands that we take some time to take notice of the good things – both those we have done and especially those that others have done which we now value.

When President Lincoln formalized the holiday, he was asking that each American, in their own way, give thanks and praise. He did this in the months following Gettysburg, which was the turning point in the American Civil War and the end was seen to be nearing.

We teach Hakarat Hatov as a part of our Religious School curriculum. The idea is that no matter what negative things may happen, it is our job to find sparks of the divine in our world, to recognize and acknowledge them. I hope that as each of us may or may not begin to work our own pre-Thanksgiving checklists we each include a check box for counting blessings and giving thanks. Join me in recognizing the good.

L’shalom,
Ira J. Wise
0 Count Blessings
0 Give thanks

Rabbi's Column - October 2025

Dear Friends,

At Rosh HaShanah, I spoke about Levi’s block tower—how he stacked it high, marveled at his creation, and then knocked it down with glee. It was a moment of wonder, impermanence, and impulse control-in-formation. (Very toddler.) And, it reminded me: nothing we build lasts forever.

Some things do endure, though. Judaism has always been more interested in sanctifying time than constructing monuments. Our rituals, our holidays, Shabbat—these are the cathedrals we carry with us. They don’t crumble. They don’t fade. They live in us. We create formative Jewish memories with those we love, and they stay with us.

This year, I invited our community to make 5786 the Year of Shabbat. Not because we need one more thing to add to our calendars, but because we need something sacred to anchor them. Shabbat is our weekly reset. It’s our chance to stop, breathe, and reconnect—with ourselves, with each other, and with the Divine. Think about it less as a thing to do, and more as permission to slow down.

If you haven’t yet received your TBT Shabbat kit, we have one with your name on it! Just drop by the office. If you have one but haven’t opened it yet, I encourage you to do so this week. Light the candles. Enjoy the wine. Try baking a Challah — or grab one from Stop & Shop, there’s no shame in that!

You don’t need to be an expert. You just need to get started. And if you’re not sure how, I’m here for you. Our RAC volunteers are available. You can learn the melodies for the Shabbat blessings here. I’ll be hosting the first Shabbat 101 workshop on Sunday, November 2nd at 11am. This is a judgment-free zone! Come learn the essentials of Shabbat: the blessings, rituals, and history. Everyone is welcome.

Finally, I’d love to hear what you’d like to try this year. Drop me a note, or stop by the office.

Let’s build something together—not in stone, but in spirit. Because in the end, it’s not the towers we build that define us. It’s the time we choose to make holy, together with those we love.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

President's Column - October 2025

Renewal, Reflection, and Connection: Stepping into October Together

As we move into October, we carry with us the spiritual energy of the High Holy Days. Rosh Hashanah invited us to reflect on the past year and envision who we want to be in the year ahead. Yom Kippur reminds us of the power of forgiveness and the importance of repairing relationships, with ourselves, with others, and with G-d. And as we cast our sins into the water at Tashlich, we symbolically let go of the burdens we’ve carried, making space for growth, renewal, and joy.

October also ushers in Sukkot, the festival of joy and gratitude. In the sukkah, we are reminded that security is fleeting and that life’s richness comes from community, hospitality, and connection. As we shake the lulav and etrog, we celebrate the beauty of the natural world and the blessings that surround us every day. Simchat Torah, which concludes this season, brings exuberant dancing with the Torah scrolls, emphasizing that joy and celebration are essential to our spiritual lives.

These holidays teach us something profound: Judaism is a balance of reflection and action, of contemplation and celebration. It is not enough to feel; we are called to act. Our traditions encourage us to turn inward and grow spiritually, but also to reach outward, to care for our neighbors, to build community, and to share our gifts.

At TBT, that balance comes alive every day. Our Chesed Committee connects members who can lend a hand with those who could use support. Our Social Justice initiatives, like the High Holiday Food Drive, remind us that helping others is central to our faith. And our Kesher Groups, Israel Committee, and learning programs, like Scholar in Residence, offer spaces to connect, learn, and grow together. Every service, program, and volunteer opportunity is a chance to live the values of our tradition in tangible ways.

As we move through October, I invite you to step more fully into our community:
- Join a Kesher Group such as singing, cooking, hiking, or others. Or, start one around your passion. You can learn more HERE.
- Attend Sukkot and Simchat Torah celebrations, and bring a friend or family member to share in the joy.
- Volunteer with Chesed or participate in Social Justice initiatives to help neighbors in need.
- Learn with us, come to a Torah study, a lecture, or a Scholar-in-Residence event.
- Give to TBT, of your time and resources to help strengthen our Jewish community on the shoreline.

Every connection you make strengthens TBT, and every act of participation enriches your own spiritual life.

As the leaves turn and the air grows crisp, may this season of reflection, celebration, and renewal inspire you to reach inward and outward, embracing both growth and joy.

Shanah Tovah u’Metukah, and Chag Sameach!

Josh Broder, TBT President

Tempe Educator's Column - October 2025

Teaching About Israel

My graduate thesis was all about how we need to bring our teaching about Israel in line with present realities, rather than merely teaching a dream of what we hope Israel could and one day will be. I wrote it having experienced the First Intifada firsthand, as my wife and I lived in Israel for the first year of grad school. I wrote having taught in schools where the lessons about the Zionist dream and the seeming miracles of Independence, and the Six-Day War and the mighty heroes of the State of Israel seemed to contradict what students were seeing on the nightly news. I wanted to teach our kids that we love Israel because it is our home. Its people are our family. No matter what, you stand by family, and you do that even while letting your family know you expect more and better.

In July I participated in a Jewish National Fund (JNF) Educators Mission to Israel. My goal was to learn with colleagues and figure out how we might improve how we teach about Israel in light of the events of the last two years. Same thesis, new reality. The object of the exercise to teach our kids to love Israel enough to engage in constructive dialogue about current events – and still love it after the conversation.

The trip was fascinating. I met a lot of people and heard a lot of their stories, some of which I shared at services a few weeks ago. I established a new network of colleagues who are wrestling with the same challenge: making a compelling case for Israel to our students in light of current reality. I did not come back with the golden ticket that will reveal all of the secrets of meeting this goal. I did come back with some ideas and some new friends to help develop them. I did come back more convinced than ever that the State of Israel is essential to the well-being and the basic Jewish identity of all Jews everywhere.

When Audrey and I lived in Jerusalem during the Intifada, we spent a fair amount of time in the Old City of Jerusalem and got to know a lot of shopkeepers in the Muslim and Christian Quarters. These were Arabs, Palestinians. It was during the first Intifada with its strikes, occasional terrorist acts and kids throwing stones. Nearly every shopkeeper we knew said the same thing. “We want our children to have a better life than we have, as we have a better life than our parents.”

I am certain that for all Israelis and for all Palestinians who are not a part of Hamas they want the same thing. And in their heart of hearts – removed from the immediacy of war – I believe they want that for each other.

A week after this issue of the Shofar is published will be the second yahrzeit of those who were killed during the Terrorist attacks from Gaza. Even more sadly, it may also be the second anniversary of the captivity of the remaining hostages from that day. I pray that they are able to observe that date from their homes in Israel. And I hope that all can soon be removed from the immediacy of war and return to making a better life for themselves and their children.

L’Shalom,
Ira J. Wise, Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - Summer 2025

Dear Friends,

Some things are clearly right or wrong. Sometimes, though, clarity comes only in hindsight. In late May, 1967, three Arab armies were massing against Israel. Egypt had closed the straits of Tiran and ejected its UN Peacekeepers. The mood in the country was somber: Hospitals canceled elective surgeries. 14,000 graves were dug in Tel Aviv’s Yarkon Park, in anticipation of mass casualties. Soldiers wrote farewell letters to their loved ones.

In the face of the Arab armies’ imminent attack, Israel launched a bold pre-emptive strike. IAF pilots destroyed the entire Egyptian air force while its pilots were still eating breakfast. Out of this existential morass came a resounding victory: in just six days, Israel expanded its territory threefold and solidified its place as a rising power in the Middle East.

In a recent poll 83% of Jewish Israelis support the pre-emptive strikes on Iran — despite the certainty of reprisal. This is notable, because Israelis are exhausted. They do not want more bloodshed. They do not want to keep running to their safe rooms. They do not want war, and yet they support this war. During the June 20 Shabbat I tried to explain why this is so. Will history vindicate this operation, furthering the cause of peace and stability? Will it be another Six Day War? Only time will tell. Our judgments today may be disproven tomorrow.

Rabbi Jill Jacobs teaches about a surprising ruling in the Babylonian Talmud: if every judge on a court votes to convict, the defendant is acquitted. (Sanhedrin 17a). The ancient sages identified that, in this instance, the judges may have succumbed to group think. They have not sufficiently raised questions and objections.

The modern luminary Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik expands, “If they all saw him as guilty with no aspect of merit, there is certainly some corruption or perversion of justice in that court.” Certainty, in other words, is not necessarily a virtue.

Within the Jewish and broader American communities, many have jumped to either blanket celebration or condemnation. So many breathless commentators and armchair diplomats fail to consider the nuances and risks of this situation – not to mention the lived experiences of those most in harm’s way. Rather than abject certainty, this may be a moment instead to acknowledge uncertainty; to admit that none of us really know what is right.

There are valid reasons to support this war, and other valid reasons to oppose it. The future is unclear, and the present danger is real. Whatever our views, our hearts are united for safety in Israel.

We also feel the urge to act. If you want to help, you might consider a donation to the Israeli Reform Movement’s Urgent Care and Relief Fund; or support temporary housing for Israelis abroad.

Finally, although peace feels painfully distant, we pray for peace. We will never stop praying for peace.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss